Heart of winter
by MyLadyDay
Summary: "With morbid curiosity, Thatch stood on shore and observed as Izou drew the mortal forward, leaning on the thick ice as the embodiment of temptation, just ready to capture any poor soul caught in its sights. He felt a stab of jealousy at the display, seeing Izou seduce another while strengthening Thatch's own urge to kiss the lips that drew him further into the darkness."


**Written for the Halloween event on Tumblr made by Stirlingphoenix ^^ Thank you, Lunarshores, for betaing ^^ This story happens in the same universe as Turtlefriedrice's 'Condemned', like a century or two later I think :D**

**Cover image by Ooonara (this is a test run for our collab for Big Bang)**

**WARNING: blood and hints at minor unnamed character deaths, a scene with draining a person of his blood.**

Despite not needing to actually breathe, living on land made it a habit. Taking slow deep breaths of air was second nature even if it wasn't strictly necessary for staying alive. So when he was submerged into the frigid ocean, his first reflex was to hold his breath as he watched the surface grow ever further. He no longer tried to locate his fellow sailors as he was dragged down by clawed hands gripping him tightly while he felt a pair of soft lips colder than the water around them curve into a smile against his neck. The graze of fangs was a new experience, thought a short one as those same fangs broke the skin of his neck and dove in.

He almost felt like it started an eternity ago yet it had been only a few short minutes since he had been safely upon the deck of their ship. With practiced subtlety, Thatch had kept to the shadows as the sun was setting, lamenting over the fact he was out on open sea, so far from his comfort zone, surrounded by mortals on board. He hoped the mortals were the only ones around him, yet that thought hadn't been very probable since the very start.

It began with a low hum rippling through the waves, rising out of the water and surrounding the ship. The men stopped their fussing about, heads lifted high in confusion and the beginnings of fascination. Thatch knew immediately. Fear he hadn't felt for centuries crawled through him as he stood in the ever widening shadows. The hum of a choir of voices trickled into song, languid words flowing with the vast ocean and rising on the ice cold breeze, mingling with the falling snow.

Thatch observed, rapt with dread as the sailors moved to the railing of the ship in a daze, following only for the sake of not seeming out of the ordinary. The mortals were confused and dazed, but he knew what it was that drew them closer to the water. The song was rising from the waves, accompanied by humming in lieu of music, and Thatch glanced over the railing. They were circling the ship; he could feel them before actually seeing, their song heavenly even to his ears despite knowing that it was as far from heaven as only hell could be.

A collective shiver of panic passed through the men as a pale fin breached the surface of the icy water only to disappear a moment later, never stopping the song flowing in the winter air. The snow fel in a motion that seemed slow and languid, floating around them before touching the sea and disappearing in the water. The men around him should have been frightened, panicked, restless at least, yet there was nothing. They stood in place, their eyes already lifeless as they kept them fixed to the ocean's surface, waiting for any flutter of life. It wasn't life Thatch expected to emerge from the sea, but he held no hope for escape anymore. Not when another ghost-like fin sailed just under the shimmering surface of the ocean.

The hypnotizing song was growing louder, yet it still held a soft quality, almost resembling a lullaby yet instead of putting him to sleep, the sound fueled his curiosity. Thatch knew what was lurking just under the surface, but the knowledge didn't quell his urge to see them. Every single one of their kind knew about the fallen: the legends and the stories, the warnings to abide by the rules of their society or be doomed just like they were.

A scratch against the hull of the ship and a gasp at his side were all the warning he received before the voices became as clear as the frozen air around them. The singing rang in the air, the sailors leaning further over the railing with their breaths fanning out before their lips. Thatch knew he shouldn't look, heeding the warnings he had heard countless times before, but the curiosity was pulling him towards the water.

The siren song had no control over him as it did with the mortals, it was his own morbid want for seeing how far one of his kind could fall that was to blame. Slim pale hands peeked through the railing, pulling up as the voice rang louder, signalling their approach. No one shied away from the glimmering claws and skin that resembled marble, not even as the first of them propped herself on the railing.

Her pale lips moved around every word she breathed out, her still dark eyes focusing on the closest sailor as she sang. Her breath didn't fog, not that Thatch expected it to, the water on her skin slowly turning to ice, sparkling like diamonds in the sparse lighting of but a few lit torches. Her black hair was slicked back, hanging heavy against her back from the sheer weight of the water still clinging to it. The claws adorning her long fingers scratched lightly against the wood of the railing, offering a low rhythm to her song. Thatch saw the demise of his fellow sailors in her eyes and the coy curve of her smile, he saw the end of a life as soon as her hand left the railing and reached out towards their eccentric shipwright.

Thatch turned his attention to the other figure that appeared next to the woman, his voice stronger than hers, yet the feature that demanded attention on him was his hair that was the color of the blood they feasted on. His eyes were a shimmering amber on his deathly white face, dark red lips curving as he beckoned the ship's doctor closer. Thatch held no affections for the men he travelled with, their impending deaths only a source of fascination for him, but he couldn't brush away the inkling of frustration. After all, they were supposed to be his meals through the voyage, whether they knew it or not.

The redhead's hand grasped at the doctor's neck almost gently, his thumb stroking a tan cheek just under awestruck dark eyes. The doctor, usually a serious man that took orders from no one, stepped closer in a daze, letting the siren pull him closer until they were a hair's breadth apart. There was no sound as sharp fangs broke dark skin and the doctor disappeared over the railing, pulled by the redhead's hands. The singing was drowned out the splash as they dove in, and Thatch turned to the spot where the shipwright had been. He was gone, undoubtedly pulled overboard by the woman that emerged first, only a few stray drops of blood in his place and another siren at the railing where she had been.

This man glanced at him first, his lips absentmindedly forming words that enthralled the ship's cheerful captain, yet the siren's golden eyes were dead set on Thatch's own. He knew, Thatch realized. This one saw him for what he was, an immortal, a vampire, an image of what every single siren around him used to be before they fell.

As the captain's only arm reached forward towards the black haired man, the siren averted his golden gaze from Thatch and focused on the mortal within his grasp. It wasn't long before the redhaired captain hit the water below, his faithful first mate following immediately after in a futile attempt to save him.

Thatch turned to his other side just in time to see another woman, pale as snow, with hair the color of ice, as she lured the only woman on board towards the edge. Bellemere was the only person on board he felt a semblance of admiration for, now feeling just a tad of regret as he watched icy hands embrace her while pale lips whispered into her ear as a lover would.

The number of sailors was dwindling, the sound of singing slowly replaced by pained gasps and the splashing of ice cold water. Thatch stood on deck with only a few of the sailors left and droplets of blood now staining the wood. He could smell it, the scent of blood was all around him and in a moment of foolishness, he leaned over the railing to take a look at the water below. It was painted a deep red, disturbed only by the falling snow and the occasional splash of color as the last of the sailors went down. He held no delusions that he would walk away from this slaughter. Immortal or not, there was no way out of the mayhem for him and no way to escape intact.

The deck emptied, but Thatch wasn't alone. A single voice continued to sing just loud enough for him to hear, circling around the empty ship as if it were taunting him. Scratching against the wood joined soon along with splashing, the sound reminding him of a child playing in the ocean for the first time, a joyous laugh interrupting the song. The breeze carried the innocent sound along with the soft snowflakes, making the waves lap against the hull of the empty ship.

He noticed the voice settled in one spot, just under his place by the railing, and Thatch came to peace with death coming his way. There was no other word to describe the creature that was coming for him, even if it probably wouldn't be his death. After all, the undead simply don't die.

The hands that grabbed the railing before him were pale enough to be mistaken for finely sculpted marble with silvery markings etched into it, the fingers webbed with paper thin skin with intricate metal claws of impressive craftsmanship adorning the tips. Those were clearly not a part of the siren's body, and Thatch found himself more intrigued than ever, momentarily forgetting every warning he had heard about these creatures. Even while looking delicate, these hands pulled and lifted an equally pale body, revealing the faint dusting of scales around thin wrists. His attention rose from the wrists to the still singing lips, their delicate movements mesmerized even Thatch for a moment before his gaze travelled over the face before him.

For a moment, he was struck silent. Whoever said that death was an ugly truth, surely hadn't seen the death lurking under the cold surface of the ocean. The eyes looking at him were dark grey, two pools of darkness on a paper white face framed by a curtain of midnight black hair dusted with diamonds of ice.

He wasn't supposed to be affected to this degree, but it was a futile battle. Never before had death looked so appealing to him, and Thatch finally knew what his own prey felt like once he charmed them. How such a wave of helplessness washed over him as he looked into the other's eyes and let the fight drain from his body, replaced by a want so strong, he didn't mind dying for it. It wasn't in his nature to feel, at least he thought it wasn't, as he hadn't truly felt in ages, and yet all the apathy was swept away with soft sung words.

His feet moved on their own accord, approaching the source of his desire without even thinking about it, his sole focus on the other's eyes. No longer did he try to fight it or fear for himself as he took in the sight of the figure before him, looking like an illusion with the snow floating around his equally white skin and the shimmering of the torches. An irrational fear took over him as the thought of the other being an illusion and without questioning his actions, Thatch lifted his hand, reaching for the statuesque figure. Only his lips continued to move even when Thatch reach out, his hand touching the very solid form of his demise.

One touch was all it took, and he was grasped by arms like stone around his middle, his cheek pressed into the frozen expanse of hair as they took their fall from the world he knew.

Even if the cold stopped bothering Thatch several lifetimes ago, he could feel the icy water like pins on his skin. The weight of his captor was pressed against him, the lips that sang moments ago now curling into a smile against Thatch's neck before grazing him with fangs just like his own.

A soft graze and then they breached his skin, thin strings of his own blood trailing in the water as the siren's strong tail propelled them further into the abyss of the ocean. Thatch no longer saw the other sailors, their fates already known to him as their blood dissipated into the water surrounding them. As far as the living world was concerned, nothing had transpired there, the sailors now souls to be forgotten, lost as if they had never existed.

Thatch felt the other's tongue lap over the wound before he was shoved off as if the siren was burned by the taste. The other's once alluring eyes were now blown wide in shock, the last drops of Thatch's blood disappearing into the water. He was still sinking, even without the other's weight leading him down, and it was time to panic once again as he was losing sight of the surface, the pale siren remaining in place as Thatch continued his descent. He wouldn't die, not from drowning at least, but his fate was unknown to him. Would he turn into the very creature that was to blame for his fall into the darkness of the ocean?

The darkness already surrounded him, taking away any hope he might have left for his salvation, something he knew he did not deserve. Thatch was a creature of the night, the monster lurking in the dark, waiting to catch its victim off guard. Hope for his salvation was gone ages ago as was his right to it; his deeds, numbered extensively through his long life, only served to condemn him further. The memory of every dead bloodless body of his victims seemed to pile onto him, weighing him down. There was no guilt for any of it, there never was, and Thatch knew nothingness was the best he could hope for.

However, becoming a siren would be a disgrace; they were traitors of their own kind, cursed and banished to an eternity in the ocean and far from the ones they had betrayed. Thatch hadn't done such a thing, and he knew he did not deserve such a fate. Still, there was no going back. The water was swallowing him, the pressure around him rising as he closed his eyes. He was used to the darkness, but the constant weight on his body was a first.

Slowly, he let go. He gave into the fall, his arms spread wide, the frigid water caressing his equally icy body as he sank. He had known, as soon as he stepped foot on that ship, that he would not be seeing the colonies. It was an odd feeling that had accompanied him since they had first set sail, and it was funny, really, how he still did not turn back even after the feeling had settled.

His body felt like it was frozen in place: even if the cold didn't bother him, Thatch still felt it. He was the cold hard darkness in the alleys of London, he was the one striking fear into mortals with a simple glance, and, now, he was the one to reach his end in the unrelenting ocean. Ice gripped him, and he suddenly felt like flying, like the water around him moved and swirled around him. He didn't open his eyes, for once afraid of what he would see. If he would see anything other than utter darkness, that is.

Everything felt as if it were moving around him, the ice piercing his skin, yet his wrist seemed to be burning. The pressure around him lessened, but he still made no move to open his eyes. The deathly silence around him was disturbed by a single voice he would never forget, a calm melody rippling around him, grazing his skin like flecks of fire. It brought a smile to his face, the song bringing him peace of mind in the face of death. Thatch knew what it was, how could he not after a melody so similar to this brought the end of an entire ship's crew in mere minutes, yet he felt the same carelessness wash over him. There was no fight left in him, no more worries for his demise or the eternity awaiting him at the bottom of the ocean.

The siren was just as vicious as he had heard and expected, lulling him into a state of defenseless resignation with its song, calming his mind and making him blind to the danger that lies ahead. Words, as soft as the flakes of snow that still fell on the ocean above, drifted through the water, carried with it's currents and wrapping around Thatch like a bubble of safety he couldn't comprehend. He knew the feeling was wrong, that he shouldn't feel safe with the siren, a creature more vicious than he himself was, yet he couldn't help it. He couldn't help any of it, the spell over him too strong to fight.

He couldn't help but understand now how he was inferior, despite all of his own instincts as a predator. Thatch had never been this out of his depth, an inkling of fear in his body for the first time in what felt like forever. He felt alive for the first time in so long, even if he wasn't really. The line between being alive and being undead was thin, after all.

With delayed clarity, Thatch finally grasped the fleeting hum of ice around him, opening his eyes with a labored blink, finding himself soaring through the darkness with a hand of ice cold stone gripping his wrist. The water around him mingled with the long inky black strands of the siren's hair, darker even than the night around them. There it was, the source of the spell that held him, eyes of darkness peering at him from a face he would never forget as long as his existence lasted. Standing out from the darkness of the ocean like the pale moon on a clear night sky, the siren observed him with curiosity instead of facing towards their destination.

Only then did Thatch realize; the siren was interested in him just as much as he was in the other. His rather morbid curiosity refused to let him think of the other as more than the embodiment of death and with that, he couldn't help but think he was heading towards a certain, but prolonged death that would grasp even his immortal existence. He was everything the other used to be, who knows how many lifetimes ago, before being cursed and bound to the endless ocean, hunting the sparse number of humans that drifted that far from shore.

Thatch was as far from human as he could be, a fact the other realized as soon as sharp fangs breached Thatch's skin, sipping on the blood that carried more death than life. So he let himself be dragged through the blackness of the water with nothing but a hand and sharp deadly claws digging into his wrist grounding him to reality. A long smooth tail flickered by his side with breathtaking speed, propelling them further into the night.

Time was irrelevant and slipping by with such vigor that Thatch held no illusions that he still knew where they were and how long it had been since death boarded their ship. His former shipmates were already forgotten, their lives lost and therefore meaningless to him, worthless to the point of no longer occupying a space in his mind. After all, he had barely known their names when they were meant to be sustenance for him on the journey from England, they mattered even less from the moment they fell under that spell, one by one.

Light filtered through the weight of water above him, just a speck of its actual brightness dulled down by the ocean and he knew it had been hours already, a fact that only served to confuse him. Or, at least, it would, had it not been for the lingering haze in his mind left by the siren's song. He was aware enough to know they were moving and that the other's voice rose from time to time, thickening the fog in his mind, blinding him to the fate that lay before him.

The voice he'd come to love and loathe in the short hours since he had first heard it sounded again, but it wasn't to enchant him this time. Even spoken, the words rang around him, carried in the currents as if it were a part of the sea itself.

"We're here." The voice emerged from thin pale lips still decorated with specks of red from Thatch's own blood. He had no idea of where 'here' was or why he was brought there, but their pace slowed, and their path turned upwards. With a flash of panic, Thatch saw the light approach, as poetic as it sounded. Wide eyed and shocked, he was pulled up and above the surface, pushed out of the water until his back collided with a solid uneven surface.

The breath was knocked out of him, even if it was only a force of habit to breathe in the first place. The fabric of his clothes was entirely soaked, ice already forming in places as the snow drifted above him, touching his face as it landed on him. He was free of the oppressing weight of the water with nothing but the gloomy cloud covered sky above him. Snow seeped from the heavy clouds, falling thickly before covering the ground.

He was saved. The gaze of those dark eyes never left him, though, he could feel it like fire licking at his skin. With some reluctance, Thatch sat up and turned towards the water, his eyes meeting pools of darkness observing him with curiosity. The siren was lying in the water, chin resting on smooth hands against the sharp rocks of the beach. Glimmers of a long pale tail were visible through the water, a ghostly soft fin breaching the surface with a shimmer of light. The sight was as mesmerizing as the siren's voice, the black hair gently floating on the water's surface, strands of it already glimmering with newly frozen droplets of ice.

Looking away was impossible while those eyes remained on him, wide with curiosity and something else Thatch couldn't place, not that he actively tried. In the back of his mind, he knew he needed to get away to break the other's hold over him, but he was still caught, still unable to voice any of his countless questions. He didn't really have to as that voice sounded again, ringing clearer outside the water.

"What is your name?" The sound made the ice spread around him as the siren tilted his head, his gaze never straying from Thatch's face. He had never been observed with such focus before, the gaze piercing through his unwavering being like hot coal through snow and it was a thrilling feeling. It was what life must have felt like, something he had thought forgotten and unattainable long since.

"Thatch," he replied, his own voice raspy and entirely unworthy of following after the sound of the other's voice. Doubt peeked its ugly head, making him wonder how he had possibly managed to lure and charm anyone in the past, suddenly so inadequate and plain in front of a true predator. The very same predator that smiled at him, stretching his lips just barely, but enough for Thatch to notice.

As alluring as the sight had been, Thatch fought the sudden gut wrenching, yet unexpected urge to kiss the siren and forced himself to speak. "Do you have a name?" It was a silly question to ask, of course, but it was the only one he found himself able to utter. He received a soft laugh in reply, a melody carried on the breeze and clouding his mind momentarily once again.

"Izou," the other spoke, clearing the fog gripping Thatch's mind just as suddenly as it had appeared. The name flew from his lips as a song meant to captivate him, and it succeeded; Thatch was ready to lay his life if only the command came from that mouth. However, this time he was alert and clear minded, no spell binding him, only the beauty of the other's voice to keep him in place. Thatch was so very aware that he held no chance of fighting it, even if Izou had relinquished the control over him for the moment.

"What is it you want from me?" The question was spoken while he still had presence of mind, thoughts occupied with questions he wanted to ask since the night had started but wasn't able to until now. There was nothing but curiosity in his voice this time, resignation with the situation coursing through him. Fear of death was was not something he felt often or at all, for that matter, considering death was no longer a realistic goal for him, but the fear of falling into the depth of the siren's curse was very real. He had no idea whether it could actually happen or how the curse came to be, but his suspicion of the other was too strong to ignore. After all, he was meant to be food just a short while before.

The siren, Izou, simply smiled mysteriously at the question posed to him. A hum reached Thatch's ears and gripped him again as the other suddenly moved forward. Smoothly, Izou used his hands to pull himself through the last of the water, metal claws scraping against smooth rocks. The sound accompanied the ever present humming and Thatch had a fleeting moment to realize he was being toyed with. His captor's smile never faltered, a soft looking stretch of his pale lips with an undeniable undertone of malice that never left the other's presence.

"Want from you?" The malice was replaced by amusement for a brief moment, but although Thatch expected a snort, the other didn't seem to be the sort to do such a thing. "Hm..." The hum made Thatch's eyes flutter, to Izou's obvious satisfaction, before speaking again. "I want nothing from you," he spoke with a voice just above a whisper, "but you… interest me."

Each word felt like a stab of pain, so quick he didn't have time to comprehend it and shout from the force of it before the soothing caress came to comfort him. Thatch was still confused and rooted into place, eyes set on the beautiful sight before him with neverending confusion; there was nothing interesting about him, not for a creature as fascinating as Izou was. Still, he was not as careless to simply trust the other nor did he feel safe with him. It was ironic to the point of making him scoff out loud, prompting Izou to speak again.

"I did save you from spending an eternity at the bottom of the ocean," he pointed out with a raise of his delicate eyebrow followed by another soft hum, this time a melody forming from behind sealed lips. Even as it sounded innocent, it was far from it, once again drawing Thatch closer to the water and where the siren lay. He felt like his mind was melting, only conscious enough to comprehend the sound calling to him. Izou was toying with him again, drawing him in then releasing the hold with amusement as Thatch could do nothing to fight it. He hadn't tried this time, knowing the words rang true; there was no way he would have fled the ocean's grasp with his strength alone.

The hold on his mind lessened as Izou continued speaking, his hand reaching up for Thatch. "You know I am right." Thatch did know it, dwelling on it as his hands moved of their own accord, reaching the hand already waiting for his. The solidity of said hand grounded him, brought him back to the present as the smooth surface touched his skin. His other hand reached towards Izou already, knees bending before he even thought of what he was doing.

Izou's skin was smooth and cold, still slick with water and a thin layer of ice under his hands as he lifted the other's surprisingly light body out of the water. His hands secured Izou around his smooth waist and sharp scales of his tail, allowing him to press his torso to Thatch's side. Izou's own hands rose immediately, one circling around Thatch's neck to teasingly graze the skin of his back with the metal claws for a moment as his other hand reached to cup at Thatch's cheek. Clawed fingers tangled into strands of frozen hair as Izou closed the distance between them, nose almost touching Thatch's cheek. A whisper was all it took to get Thatch to move, taking slow cautious steps away from the shore.

"Will you keep me company?" Izou whispered in his ear, no semblance of a warm breath to be felt on Thatch's ear. His legs moved on their own towards a goal he did not know, but was aware it had already been set for him. He had enough presence of mind to know what he was doing, but the ability to resist was taken from him. It no longer mattered, however, the will to get away no longer a priority as Izou's presence shifted from certain death into infuriating temptation that called for his attention.

His lips curled into a smirk against Thatch's cheek, and he could do nothing but glare as his legs continued their journey away from the ocean with each step. A sharp claw nicked at his skin, fingers tightening in his hair as humming sounded against his skin, guiding him on their way. Thatch said nothing, nor was he asked anything else as he walked with Izou in his arms. The snow kept falling around them, dusting Izou's hair with white as he hummed, his eyes closed. Thatch could admit to himself that the other looked peaceful as he was now.

There was no one but them in the vast white landscape, the quiet pierced by the sounds of waves and soft humming, the wind carrying the along with the snowflakes. Thatch's bare feet left prints in the untouched snow covering the ground, but his sole focus was on the path ahead. He did his best not to turn and face Izou, no matter how much he wanted to glare at him for the control he still possessed over Thatch. Admitting it would be a heavy blow on his pride, but Thatch knew he would have done the same even if he had his own free will.

The walk continued on, no goal in sight, but Thatch did not dwell on it. After all, he would not grow tired from the exertion nor did he mind having a weight in his arms, grounding him and reminding him that he had avoided a fate worse than death. He was on solid ground, and it filled him with nothing but relief, even if he had been walking for hours already.

All thought fled from him, however, as their destination came into sight. He continued walking, feeling Izou shift enough to look ahead without a word until they reached the very edge of land overlooking a half frozen lake. Thatch stared at the amazing sight, forgetting about the temptation in his arms for a moment, until lips once again touched the shell of his ear.

"Let go, Thatch."

It was not a command this time, the whisper more guiding than controlling. Thatch looked at him at last, seeing the smile back in place before he knelt down, letting Izou ease himself out of his arms and into the water, eyes never straying from Thatch's own until his voice died down as he sank under the water's surface.

Thatch watched him go, once again mesmerized by the sight. Spell or not, he was at the other's mercy, and there was nothing more painful to admit than that. Perhaps he was admitting it simply by resolving to stay despite being offered an opportunity to leave. How could he, however? He was in debt to the last person he would ever want to owe his pitiful existence to, yet he still owed Izou for bringing him to shore. So he walked once again, following the shore with steady steps, ice and snow crackling under his feet as he searched for a place to settle in close to the lake.

He found a small slope littered with rocks big enough to serve as shelter from prying eyes, in case there were humans around, deciding on settling just short of the water. His eyes never left the lake's smooth surface, noticing the painful lack of movement anywhere near where he stood by the lake. The scenery was far too peaceful for him to be at ease, too used to bustling city streets and countless people at his disposal.

Thatch sat on the snow covered ground, his back against a particularly large rock shielding him from anyone that might approach the lake from behind him. His knees were bent, just shy of the still body of water before him. Left alone with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company, Thatch let them stray to Izou and his undeniable presence even when he was nowhere near Thatch's spot by the lake.

It had been hours before he first caught a glance of a white fin sliding out of the water before disappearing again. More hours before he could finally see the entirety of Izou's long tail sliding just under the surface. He had half a mind to think the other was teasing him, lurking just under the surface, keeping an eye on him. Whether the siren expected Thatch to walk away or not, Thatch would never know, most likely. He knew, however, that he would not be leaving. Not soon, at any rate, his curiosity still too fresh and too strong in his mind.

Izou was different from anything Thatch had heard about the fallen; maybe he was still under the other's control, but he had yet to see the siren as an abomination. The reason for his banishment was the biggest question Thatch wanted to pose, yet he saw no way of breaching the subject. Izou was still drifting in the water far from where Thatch sat, but the flicker of his gaze towards the shore each time he surfaced didn't go unnoticed by Thatch. It was amusing, although he wanted nothing more than to speak to Izou. Surely, it was not simply to hear that voice again. Only hours ago did Izou leave him and already he craved for the sound, fearing he might lose his mind if he were to be left without hearing it for too long.

His wishes remained just that, for hours, days even, slowly driving him mad with the lack of nothing but the sound of the siren's song. Thatch had yet to leave the spot he had settled in days ago after he had first laid eyes on that lake, days since he let Izou slip into the water and out of his reach. It seemed odd to him now, given that he had wanted to get away and save himself those same several days ago. He may have lived through several lifetimes, years passing as mere minutes, yet the previous days felt like an eternity with only himself for company. Izou continued his teasing game, humming piercing the air, a bare shell of his voice, but it felt as if it was Thatch's lifeline.

Starved of the sound, he remained seated against the rocks, feet touching the icy water now and again. Head bowed and eyes closed, Thatch waited for anything the other would be willing to give. Pretending to be asleep was entirely unconvincing for both him and Izou, but he could no longer sit still and keep his eyes on the water without being overcome with urge to dive in. It had been snowing the entire time, everything around him turning unbearably white as he waited, making him seek some refuge by finally averting his gaze.

Thatch didn't let himself be alarmed by the first subtle splash he had heard, fearing he might have imagined it, but the next one was louder; still barely above the sound of a whisper, but Thatch heard it clearly enough. The familiar hum travelled across the water, reaching him and soothing the ache of emptiness he was so abruptly left with.

His eyes remained closed, his head still tilted. Even if he gave no sign of noticing Izou's movement, the other surely knew. Still, he seemed to continue his approach, and Thatch almost felt it, every movement reflected by the small waves of water lapping at his legs, soaking his pants. Thatch remained still, waiting quietly as if Izou were a delicate bird he did not want to scare away. An amusing notion, but he couldn't help it, craving the other's company more than he'd like to admit.

Knowing when the other was actually near him was impossible, given the fact he did not breathe nor make a sound as he travelled through the water; truly a predator worth fearing. His back was rigid against the rock he was leaning on, his entire body buzzing with excitement and with uncertainty, waiting patiently even if he was sure his body would break from the anticipation.

He gasped, unnecessarily so, and immediately felt the other almost purr as Izou slid into his lap, the curtain of his wet hair soaking through Thatch's pants as he settled in with his head and shoulders in Thatch's lap. Thatch remained as he was, keeping his eyes closed for fear Izou would disappear if he were to open his eyes. It was a fight to remain as still as he could as the cold touch of Izou's skin seeped through to his own. The silence stretching around them was oppressive, almost as the weight of the ocean that threatened to crush Thatch only days ago.

The cold bite of sharp claws against his cheek made his lashes flutter, even as the razor sharp ornaments pricked at his skin, drawing blood for a mere moment before the cut closed and the skin looked as if nothing had happened. The drop of blood was still sliding down his cheek, however, Thatch could feel it in the stillness of the moment, along with the gentle touch of the clawed fingers as they caressed his skin. Finally, he opened his eyes, gaze immediately falling on the face in his lap, noting how Izou's eyes remained locked to his cheek with undivided attention and underlying fascination of the kind Thatch had rarely witnessed. He couldn't help leaning into the touch of the other's hand, his eyes falling shut once more, for another moment of peace as he hoped Izou would remain there for just a bit longer.

His own hands found themselves tangled in a sea of black hair, fingers brushing against delicate ice perpetually trapped inside the long strands. Thatch could feel those dark eyes burning into his skin as they never strayed from his face, just like the fingers brushing against his cheek so gently, one might think he was a delicate creature himself.

"Look at me," Izou's voice beckoned him as his other hand lifted to Thatch's other cheek before brushing along his jaw. Of course he obeyed and opened his eyes, looking at the image of perfection in his lap, Izou's pale face framed by utter darkness of his hair, his eyes staring so intently into Thatch's own that he feared he might break under the gaze. With sudden urgency, he felt his curiosity trying to break free, a question already on the tip of his tongue, no longer capable of keeping quiet, not when Izou looked at him like that.

"What have you done?" he asked rather vaguely, but knew Izou understood. Still, he needed to break the silence and clarify. "What have you done to deserve this punishment?"

Izou's hands stilled, but his eyes never left Thatch's. He let his hands fall to Thatch's knees, but not without scratching lightly against whatever skin he could reach with his claws.

"I killed someone." The reply was short and to the point, but that did not make it any less confusing to Thatch. They were monsters and they killed for food, or rather for blood; it was hardly a crime against their kind that would warrant such a punishment.

"We all kill," he said in way of a reply, keeping eye contact and enjoying the fact the other had not put him under his spell just yet. "Was it one of us?" The question brought a smile to Izou's face; a sad, humourless thing that seemed so out of place on such a beautiful face.

"No," whispered, the intensity of his stare growing. "He was mortal. A fascinating man, truly, and the greatest swordsman that lived." His voice sounded melancholic as he recalled a time that passed long ago. But Thatch still had a hard time understanding; they were only meant to be cursed for crimes against their own kind, not mortals. Mortals were food, physically and mentally weaker and simply insignificant. Their numbers kept growing and a death here and there was nothing worth an eternal punishment. "He was not meant to die," Izou added suddenly, still recalling memories long gone and Thatch kept quiet as the other continued his story. "Well, he did not die. Not really. I killed him, and he did not die," he spoke softly, his voice, once strong and controlling, now quiet. Not quite frightened, but definitely sorrowful. Still, Thatch had yet to understand.

"So you turned him into one of us?"

That smile was back, and he knew immediately that it was not the case.

"No," Izou replied, confirming Thatch's presumption. "I know now he was already cursed. Silly creatures, mortals. He was famed and talented, his name travelled across the land, yet it all meant nothing when he died. Now we are both cursed and sentenced to an eternity we did not ask for," Thatch found himself mesmerized once again by the other's voice, the other's spell lingering in the back of his mind, but he was momentarily free of any control.

"I do not understand." As interesting as the story was, it did nothing to quell his curiosity. If anything, it brought on more questions, ones he had no chance of answering as Izou continued speaking.

"I was an example to the others." All traces of a smile were now gone, his eyes boring into Thatch's with an intensity he could barely stand. "I fed on someone known through the entire empire, and I was accused of almost revealing our existence. Quite a grave crime, don't you think?" With that, the moment was gone, Izou's face void of the crushing sadness Thatch couldn't stand to see. The silence grew heavier with the beginnings of a storm brewing, the snow slowly making its descent once again. Thatch was stunned by the triviality that was the other's fate, the borderline laughable reason for such a punishment moving even his long dead heart.

The touch of frozen claws along his cheek, cutting his skin once again, startled him out of his thoughts. He focused his gaze on Izou's face, caught off guard by the smile he found there, before the weight was gone from his lap, his cheek left untouched as Izou slid into the water, leaving him alone and lonely once again.

Thatch watched him go without a word, the feeling of being lost returning, but a request for the other to return would be too out of place. Izou trusted him with his story, shattering everything Thatch was thought about the fallen of their kind, the traitors that roamed the endless oceans. The urge to follow into the water and have the other in his grasp once more was growing stronger as he thought about the injustice of Izou's fate.

But he stayed. He remained in his spot, head tilted back, and his eyes fixed at the sky and the falling snow. The wind howled around him, a steady distraction from thoughts far too turbulent for the moment. However, he was grateful for the knowledge Izou shared as it helped him make a decision he thought impossible days ago. Thatch knew he could not leave, not now, not with the other stranded in the lake with no possible way of returning to the ocean. He hardly had to worry about Izou and his well being, but he was tied to the side of the lake; this time with his own wish rather than the other's spell.

Of his own free will, Thatch stayed in the spot he chose for himself, eyes trained on the cloudy sky that allowed him to remain in the open even during the day. Hours of waiting flew into days, the rising blanket of snow around him the only way of keeping track of how much time passed. The wait seemed easier this time, knowing he had somehow earned the other's trust, but dread slowly filled him as the lake grew colder.

Ice started to form near his feet, spreading across the too still surface of the lake. It's paleness spread like a disease, covering the entire lake, creating a new surface for the snow to settle on and Thatch lost all sight of Izou. The other made fear known to him once again in the last several days, the feeling returning as he could neither see nor hear the one he chose to stay with. For the first time since he had come to the lake, Thatch stood and took an unsteady step onto the ice, finding it firm enough to hold his weight. He walked carelessly after several steps, his eyes searching for any sign of black hair or a ghostly pale tail.

The wind was on his side, sweeping the layers of snow enough for him to glance through the ice as if it were glass, a window into another world, searching for its only inhabitant. Yet, he saw nothing but darkness. The blame for feeling anything at all fell on Izou's shoulders as Thatch once again felt truly alone, something he hadn't cared for in so long, yet it threatened to crush him now.

Reassurance came in form of a song carried by the wind; the voice was familiar, but the melody was new. Calming instead of controlling, filling his being with a promise he was not left behind. A glance to his feet brought a smile to his face as he found a hand flat against the ice in the water, a clawed hand scratching at the thick layer between them. Izou's hair was melted into the darkness, but his face, his beautiful face, stood like the moon on a stormy night sky, eyes trained at Thatch. Izou sang with a smile on his face, a surprising sight, but Thatch couldn't help the calm washing over him with each whispered word.

Izou circled him under the ice, the long white tail piercing the dark water. Still, Thatch couldn't help but notice the usual pale image of the other's face now resembled ash more than the fine marble it used to remind him of. All too suddenly, Thatch was stuck with the realization that Izou had not fed for far too long, missing out on his meal as he pulled Thatch from the ship. In terms of feeding, Thatch was useless to him. Standing in the middle of a frozen lake with a siren circling him almost like a hungry shark, Thatch felt regret for the first time in far too long yet not long enough.

Looking around, Thatch hoped for any kind of civilization, searching for any sign of life and for once, he found what luck must have felt like. Nestled into the safety of the edge of a forest was a light shining in the darkness that came with such heavy snowfall. It lay on a side of the lake Thatch hadn't bothered with exploring, opting for staying in one place rather than moving around. His own hunger went unnoticed as he waited patiently for Izou to surface for days, the sole focus of his mind lay on the lake.

As Izou's song continued through the air and the relentlessly falling snow, Thatch started for the shore, knowing exactly what he was meant to do. His feet left marks in the snow, windows that made it possible for him to see Izou swimming just under the ice, following him on his way to the light in the distance.

The lack of a shirt and shoes was hardly bothersome, his pace quick and determined as he crossed the lake. Izou was trapped under the ice, unable to follow into the shallowest part of the lake, but Thatch caught a glimpse of his confused face before he crossed the last few feet towards land. Without looking back, he continued towards the house, the candle in the window serving as a beacon, leading the way for him. The only thoughts in his head were for finding someone to feed Izou, forgetting his own needs for the first time. He was aware of the hold the other had over him still lingering in the back of his mind, clawing at his rationality which, for once, decided on the course of action.

He knew he was far too lost in the other's very being, Izou's spell to control him no longer necessary as he reached the small wooden house. The knocks delivered to the sturdy looking door were harsh, but did not seem to frighten whoever was inside as the sound was soon followed by heavy steps. Thatch was met with warmth seeping from the open door and a tall, kind looking old man smiling at him from under an impressive mustache.

Luck seemed to still be on Thatch's side as he noted the mortal would be enough to feed Izou, making up for what he lost on the ship. With a smile and a shift in his eyes, Thatch observed how the old man's shocked face turned docile, his eyes vacant as Thatch used his own magic even if it had never been as strong as Izou's.

With a single command, Thatch stepped back from the door, and the man followed without complaint, the two walking back to the lake in silence as Thatch's eyes never left his victim's. The snow had yet to stop falling around them, and Thatch noted how the other shivered from the cold, but couldn't find it in himself to care. He stopped just shy of the icy lake, urging the man under his control forward towards the frozen water. Another command was all it took for the man to break the ice and create a gaping hole in the surface, prompting a silent thanks to the heavens from Thatch for finding someone strong.

As soon as the ice was broken and the surface disturbed, Izou's slender hands gripped at the uneven edge of the ice, pulling his torso out of the water. Thatch relinquished his control, noting a moment of panic in his victim's posture before Izou's lips moved, uttering the first words of the song that captured Thatch himself. Without the accompaniment of other voices, the song sounded sad but more beautiful, and he could finally hear as it was not directed at him this time.

Still, the voice was what caught him into Izou's web each time, his willpower far from strong enough to fight it and its beauty. With morbid curiosity, Thatch stood on shore and observed as Izou drew the mortal forward, leaning on the thick ice as the embodiment of temptation, just ready to capture any poor soul caught in its sights. He felt a stab of jealousy at the display, seeing Izou seduce another while strengthening Thatch's own urge to kiss the lips that drew him further into the darkness.

With a flicker almost too swift for him to notice, Izou glanced at Thatch as their prey stepped into the lake, making his way towards Izou despite the frigid water. Thatch found himself more mesmerized by each passing moment, his eyes on Izou's face as the man came just within reach of the other's waiting hands. The jealousy was back as Izou lifted a hand and touched the man's shoulder, awaking a flicker of longing inside Thatch's chest, the feeling deepening as Izou's eyes returned to him, locking on Thatch's wide ones.

Izou smiled around the words he sang, his eyes remaining on Thatch this time, without any indication of returning to the prey before him. He was teasing again, mesmerizing Thatch beyond any point of normalcy, as he lifted the other hand to cup at the man's neck. Thatch watched the man drop to his knees of his own accord, something he himself would do for the other at this point. With that, the man was shorter than Izou and he tilted his head, laying his neck bare for the hunter that caught him. Izou still held Thatch's gaze, not that Thatch could look away even if he wanted to. With a teasing smile, Izou bared his fangs and dove for his victim's jugular, eye contact with Thatch never broken for a mere moment.

One bite and blood welled from the wound, making it's slow descent down the side of the man's neck and Izou's mouth, teasing Thatch just as Izou was, the smell filling his nostrils reminding him how starved he himself still was.

He could see the other swallow, the corner of his lips curving once more as he hummed, this time beckoning Thatch closer. Denying was far from his intentions as he observed the way Izou's clawed fingers curled on the side of the man's neck, breaking the skin for the simple reason of being able to do so, drawing thin streaks of blood to taunt Thatch. Izou was undoubtedly cruel as he had been since they day they met, yet it was so appealing to Thatch that he couldn't find it in himself to turn away, to hate the other in the slightest. All he wanted was to touch him, taste him or the blood on his lips; Thatch could not care anymore, the want too strong.

It was what sirens did, he knew, they tempted mortals, dangling whatever wish and dream before their very eyes, offering them the world at their feet only to take everything such a mere mortal had: their life. Izou was doing the same to him, offering himself and everything that came with it, the only thing Thatch really wanted other than Izou himself. He had never seeked out companionship before, but it had become overly appealing as of late.

Even if he knew it could all be a ruse, another bout of teasing from Izou's side, Thatch couldn't help but step forward and follow the scent of blood, his eyes never leaving Izou's. He wouldn't look away, not from such a mesmerizing sight that took a hold on him. It was with resignation that Thatch realized Izou owned him in his entirety as well as the power to command him however he wished. He could not even care, let alone want to fight against it so he simply did not.

His feet touched the water, but he did not even glance down as he stepped into the lake, his way guided by Izou's eyes and the sweet smell of life in the blood dripping against Izou's mouth. He was still teasing, letting the blood flow free for the taking, if only Thatch would come closer. And he did as was wordlessly asked to do, as he knew he would do anything for that look in Izou's eyes and the smile on his lips, stained red with the still warm blood of the man slowly dying between them.

As soon as he was close enough, Thatch's hand traced the mortal's neck, fingers tangling with Izou's clawed ones before he dipped his head and licked at the blood trailing from the other's lips. Izou had yet to avert his gaze or wipe the smugness radiating from him as Thatch did what Izou wanted him to. He, however, paid it no mind with the first taste of blood on his tongue, his fangs appearing almost immediately to sink into the cooling flesh of their victim to draw what little blood was left.

Izou's claws teased the skin on his hand, his nose only inches from Thatch's as they drained the man completely, the scent of blood growing weaker as he slumped in their hold, sliding from their iron grasp and into the water.

Even as the man sank under the surface and away from their sight, neither let go or averted their gaze. The unrelenting urge to kiss Izou until there was no blood left on his lips was back, and this time, Thatch found no reason to deny himself that one wish if the other had really been playing with him all along. He let his other hand reach for Izou, the fingers brushing against a bloodstained lip before sliding along his cheek and tanging in frozen hair at the nape of his neck. At last, he leaned in, licking at the still fresh blood from Izou's lower lip before pressing them together, finding himself surprised that the other kissed back, his claws cold against Thatch's scalp as they gripped at Thatch's hair.

All he tasted was blood, warm and smooth, pushed into his mouth by the other's cold tongue, fangs nicking at his lower lip one too many times for it to be accidental. With no need to breathe, Thatch refused to pull away just like Izou and with every moment that passed, he felt the haze on his mind lifting, the other's spell nestled in the back of his mind slowly fading with no possibility of it returning in sight. He gripped harder, his fingers refusing to let Izou go anymore and the sentiment seemed to be returned as Izou let go of his hand only to wind his arm around Thatch's neck, pulling his closer.

Thatch couldn't help but lift Izou into his arms, just as the other had forced him to do as soon as they left the ocean, except this time he wanted to feel the weight of another's trust in him. He knew there was no other option left for him but to stay by that lake with Izou within his grasp for as long as he could.

Finally letting go, separating his lips from Izou's, Thatch glanced down the length of the other's tail, noting the change in color of his scales and the red of the veins of the pale fin. His own skin was warmer than usual, thanks to the feeding, just as Izou's was at the moment and the feeling of warmth in his arms was one he never knew he missed. Izou let his head rest on Thatch's shoulder, nose nuzzling against his neck.

"You are free," he whispered, knowing Thatch would hear him nonetheless. "You can leave and I can no longer stop you."

Thatch was right in noting Izou's hold on him was no longer there, freeing him from any control, yet he still knew he would stay for as long as such a life was possible.

"I know," he whispered back before pressing his lips into Izou's hair, letting him slide into the lake. The walk out of the water was a short one and he only glanced back once to see Izou disappear under the ice with their victim's body in tow, before he made his way towards the now empty house on shore. He restrained himself until the door was closed behind him and his wet pants lay discarded on the wooden floor, but once he was drying in front of the fire, Thatch finally allowed himself to grin. His entire body was thrumming with what he assumed was life, the excitement of the entire situation coursing through his veins with the freshly consumed blood and the freedom of his mind.

He was no longer alone, no longer an empty shell of a monstrous creature. And he could hardly wait to do all of it again, with Izou and whichever victim he could find first.


End file.
